


Scars

by AngelTitan114



Series: A Heart and a Half [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Mentions of incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8584519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelTitan114/pseuds/AngelTitan114
Summary: Shiro didn’t want to say anything as his father knelt beside him and took his small wrist in gloved hands. “Gods, Shiro, what did you cut yourself on?”He continued to remain silent, and merely looked at the water, light sobs racking his chest at the throbbing pain. His blood diluted through the crystal clear water, creating a cloudy violet replacement for the serene pale blue.





	

Shiro was seven when he received his first scar.

His father was all but interrogating his Deeprealm caretakers, ensuring that his son was being given the utmost education and upbringing. This was also a rare visit where his mother wasn’t accompanying his father. Why, he could not say. He missed his mother, hadn’t seen her in close to a year. Was she not missing him as well? Or had he become a secondary priority?

His aunt Hinoka had been with Shiro’s father instead. It was the first time he’d met the red haired woman, and Shiro had a hard time believing he was related to her. Her hair was like fire, eyes even fiercer coloured and just a shade lighter. Even when she knelt beside him and claimed to be his father’s younger sister, Shiro’s ash white hair and piercing deep red eyes begged to differ.

When he was left to his own devices, Shiro was not completely oblivious, as Hinoka seemed to have believed during that visit. Even though he was beside the crystal clear pond just outside his room and had busied himself with creating shapes in the sand and dirtying his pale kimono, he could hear Hinoka arguing with his father on the other side of the courtyard. He could see her judging glances in his direction, though he didn’t know what they meant, or even why she would do them to begin with.

“...I’m sorry, Ryoma, it’s just…” a look towards Shiro, “I’m having a hard time with him.”

“He is still my son and your nephew, Sister,” Shiro’s father said in return, also glancing at Shiro. “I know it may take time-”

 _“Time?”_ Hinoka sounded aghast. “It’ll take more than _that._ How can I just accept him? I had hardly comprehended that Corrin isn’t our little sister before you went and had a child with her!”

“Hinoka!” Shiro’s father snapped firmly, and Shiro could see the silencing eyes his father held. Both adults peered over at Shiro, but he warded off their gazes by laughing and burying his fingers in the sand.

“Don’t pretend this isn’t a distressing situation!” Hinoka shot back, though quieter this time. “You’ve only revealed Corrin’s origin to those close to you, and even fewer know about your marriage. Barely ten people know about Shiro’s existence! When those who don’t know who Corrin’s father truly is find out about Shiro, how will you explain his uncanny likeliness to both you and her? How will you explain to those who do not follow you as loyally as I do that the future king of Hoshido is not the product of incest?!”

Shiro’s father remained calm despite Hinoka’s outburst. _Incest?_ Shiro wondered, pondering what the word could mean. _Sounds like insect._

“After this war, I plan to announce Corrin’s true identity to all Hoshido at the same time I name Shiro my heir.”

“And you think that’s _strategic?”_ Hinoka questioned, staring Shiro’s father in the eye. “Telling the people that not only is your once sister now your queen, but your heir is also the child of a borderline incestral relationship? Gods, I wouldn’t be surprised if Corrin were tried for treason and Shiro a target of assassination!”

“Do you not believe I cannot even protect my own family?” Shiro’s father now spoke up in retaliation. “You of all people should know that I can, Sister. And why must Shiro be put through the most horrid things your imagination can conjure? He is still your family as well as I.”

“I’m only planning for the worst case scenario, Brother.” Hinoka once again looked in Shiro’s direction, and he pretended to wave at her. She strained a smile and waved back. “Your son will be a controversial thing in the future, as soon as he’s old enough to take the throne. He may not be accepted as your heir at all.”

“He will be,” Shiro’s father said in a fiercely determined tone.

Shiro had his hand fishing in the pond as his father said this, and he paused, fingers reaching for the bottom. He realized only now that they kept bringing up his mother’s name, kept saying that she seemed to be at fault for something. _But Mom’s the loveliest person I know,_ Shiro silently retorted. _She’s never done anything wrong. She always loves me and gives me lots of hugs and presents when she comes to see me…_

 _I want to stay by Mom’s side all the time,_ he thought sadly, frowning at his reflection in the water, still elbow deep. _And Dad’s side too, so he won’t say bad stuff about Mom anymore-!_

“Ah!” Shiro suddenly yelped and yanked his arm from the water. A shooting pain suddenly invaded his senses and he saw that a rock had cut his wrist. It wasn’t too deep, but Shiro still felt tears prick his eyes at the sudden pain, biting his lip as he watched the blood slowly bead down his arm.

“Shiro!” his father cried from across the yard and dashed toward him, Hinoka at his heels. “Shiro, what happened? Are you alright?!”

Shiro didn’t want to say anything as his father knelt beside him and took his small wrist in gloved hands. “Gods, Shiro, what did you cut yourself on?”

He continued to remain silent, and merely looked at the water, light sobs racking his chest at the throbbing pain. His blood diluted through the crystal clear water, creating a cloudy violet replacement for the serene pale blue.

 

***

 

Twelve years later, Shiro thought back to the conversation his father and aunt had beside the pond. He gazed down at the scar on his right wrist that he now bore, finally understanding what their words had meant.

_“How will you explain to those who do not follow you as loyally as I do that the future king of Hoshido is not a product of incest?!”_

Shiro flinched and instinctively reached for his hair. Though he continuously dyed it to hide the natural ash colour his mother gave him, all that left him with was a pale charcoal. But he could do nothing about his eyes but say they were from his father’s mother.

He had begun hiding his likeness to his mother when he realized what incest meant. He’d done it because he had learned of his heritage, of his _father’s_ heritage, and could finally make the link between the threat of incest and who his father was.

Shiro took another moment to grimace at the scar before tying his vambrace together and testing it with a flex of his hand.

“You look nervous, Prince Shiro.”

The prince glanced around to find Hisame, his cousin’s retainer, standing a distance away. Shiro had come out to the outskirts of the encampment to clear his head, so it made sense that someone would come check on him. He also had no doubts that Asugi was keeping an eye on him not too far away, hidden in the cover of darkness.

“Not nervous,” Shiro replied, chuckling and turning to the young samurai. “Just reminiscing.”

“Some say reminiscing before battle is another form of nerves, my lord,” Hisame answered, but his expression softened. “Do you feel like sharing or shall I leave you be?”

“Sharing’s not really my forte,” Shiro snorted and looked back out over the Vallite Islands basking in the distorted moonlight.

“Lord Kiragi was worried about you, hence my presence here,” Hisame stated then, coming up beside the taller man. “He worries about you often these days.”

“Ha, who doesn’t?” Shiro laughed, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

Of course Shiro was nervous. He was almost out of his mind with nerves. His family had stated at the war council earlier that the battle to come was literally the endgame of the war against Anankos. If they survived the battle, it would be over. The bloodshed would end, and Shiro wouldn’t have to watch anyone else he cared about get hurt.

But the scar of the war would remain, and Shiro would alway feel the weight of the consequences of it; he would have to live as the consequence of his parents’ decisions during the war.

Six years. His family had been fighting the war for _six years_. Scholars said that leaders had to remain steadfast and unshakeable during wartimes. Shiro was told that in the year before he was born, in the year that his mother brought her siblings together and revealed the true enemy of Nohr and Hoshido, that notion had been thrown to the wind because of blind love and the threat of near-certain death every waking moment.

Perhaps it would have made more sense had he been born later in the war, like his younger brother. But he wasn’t, and when they came for him, he knew they sought a soldier of their caliber, not the son they didn’t raise.

He fought their war the for two years since he had been brought from his Deeprealm, thinking it was finally a chance to be with his family after only meeting them sporadically, only to learn that his heritage made him both an outcast and an asset. Few of the soldiers wanted anything to do with the child of suspected royal incest, and even fewer approached him for _him_ as opposed to his parents.

To answer his own question, most didn’t worry about him, even if he was half the army’s future ruler.

“You should get some rest,” the teal haired samurai implored Shiro gently. “Kana is probably also wanting you to return. The Gods know your brother won’t sleep without you in the same room.”

Shiro’s little brother was only thirteen. _Thirteen._ A horrendously young age to be in the thick of a war. That fact only made him resent his parents’ decisions more.

“You’re right about that,” Shiro agreed, grinning to cover his heavy thoughts. “Make sure Kiragi actually sleeps tonight, will you? He just about fell asleep on the march the last time it was the night before a big day.”

Hisame inclined his head respectfully and headed in his own direction toward Shiro’s uncle Takumi’s family tent. Shiro followed suit, heading toward the Hoshidan King and Queen’s tent.

As he ducked his head under the tall tent flaps, taking note of Saizo, Kaze and Kagero standing watch in the shadows, a pale azure haired Asugi among them as well, Shiro nodded to Jakob as the butler bowed and entered his mother’s sitting room with a cup of coffee. “Good night, Shiro, darling!” his mother called lightly, smiling despite the dark circles below her eyes and the strategy books she was pouring over in last minute preparation for the following day. That explained the coffee Jakob was now pouring.

Shiro smiled back for a moment before continuing on to his father’s personal area.

The soon-to-be king of the eastern land looked exhausted, pieces of his demonic red armour strewn to the side of the canvassed room and his wild hair hurriedly pulled back. The man was looking over the messy map of Valla, dark eyes scanning over the drawn landscape again and again, like he was searching for something. An escape from the coming battle perhaps? A weakness in Anankos’s defenses? Something else entirely?

Shiro’s father suddenly glanced up, though, when he entered, and Shiro almost winced at how bloodshot his father’s eyes were. “Shiro,” the High Prince confirmed, relaxing at the sight of his own son. “Shouldn’t you be resting? Kana was in here a moment ago looking for you.”

 _No he wasn’t,_ Shiro wanted to mutter. _You’ve been looking at that map for hours straight, haven’t you?_ “I was just about to,” Shiro answered, taking up the space beside his father. Multiple times Shiro had pointed out triumphantly to his father that he’d grown a good two inches taller than him, but now it just felt as if his father was a tired old man of thirty-two years, hunched over a table and blinking the sleep away.

For a moment, Shiro was sure his father was going to ask his usual night-before-battle questions: Did you sharpen your naginata? Is your armour sturdy enough? You remember your position for tomorrow, don’t you?

But tonight, his father instead said nothing, eyes falling back on the map. Shiro didn’t speak either, and they stood in silence, occasionally hearing pages flipping down the makeshift corridor. They stood like that until his father finally spoke first.

“Shiro, I’m sorry,” his father said, not flinching his gaze. “I’ve been so caught up in this war that I’ve only been able to think no further than the next battle. Only recently have I begun to ponder the future, now that the final battle awaits us. What’s after this war?”

His father now looked at him, a clearly thoughtful look in his tired eyes. “Your mother and I may not survive tomorrow’s battle. Most of us may not survive. As I realized this and accepted whatever may come for me, I also realized that I am taking my family with me tomorrow. My wife, my brother and sisters, and my sons. I may even lose some of my family.” His father’s eyes darkened and he glanced away from Shiro’s blood red eyes. “What kind of a man am I to force those I love through that?”

“Good question, old man.”

Shiro immediately wanted to take back those words, especially when he saw his father wince like he had been struck.

“Heh, you always tell it like it is,” Shiro’s father chuckled morbidly, turning completely back to the map table. “Get some rest, Son. I’ll see to it that Jakob wakes you and Kana.”

After this, Shiro wouldn’t see his father until after the battle. His father was head of the right side of the vanguard (Shiro’s uncle Xander head of the left), Shiro head of the secondary right flank, behind his mother. It would be a miracle if he even saw any of his cousins as they led their own squadrons behind him.

 _Do something, you idiot!_ Shiro yelled at himself, knowing he wouldn’t sleep a wink if he left like this. What if he did lose his father tomorrow? What if Shiro himself was lost in the battle? One of them would be forever burdened by such painful last words.

Before his father completely stopped acknowledging him in order to return to his studying of the map, Shiro opened his mouth to speak. “Dad, I-”

“Shiro!”

Shiro started at the pre-puberty voice and glanced around, only to find a grinning Kana at the tent flap of their father’s study area.

“Did I not tell you he was looking for you?” Shiro’s father said as Kana scuttled up to his elder brother and began tugging him to their bedroom.

“C’mon, Big Brother, I’m tired!” Kana whined and continued to pull Shiro along. _You’re losing your chance!_ he practically screamed in his head, glancing desperately back at his father as he struggled to form words.

But then his father glanced up once more, met Shiro’s frantic gaze, and gave a small, genuine smile. “I will see you after we win the day, Shiro,” his father assured him firmly. “Until then, will you remain safe for me?”

Shiro felt his heart thump heavily in his chest, feeling the literal weight of his father’s words. “Only if you promise I’ll see you again, Dad,” Shiro finally murmured, biting his lip to focus on talking and not showing too many weak emotions before his father. “Then I’ll keep the whole _army_ safe.”

His father breathed a laugh and nodded. “Then I shall swear it.”

 

***

 

Shiro was beginning to think his father wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.

He had no idea where the Hoshidan High Prince was, especially not among the chaos Shiro had become enveloped in. Though the army had fought thousands of Vallites, taking and giving casualties, the enemy seemed to not even have a dent in it. Shiro felt as if they had been decimated to a fraction of what they started with, but the opposing army just kept coming in enormous waves.

Hope had been all but crushed when Anankos revealed his true draconic form.

Shiro had to keep himself from shaking at the sheer size of the dragon. It was larger than his mother' dragon form by a thousand-fold _at least._ What could they do to defeat such a creature? Even if his mother had the Fire Emblem, and even if the other four divine weapons were present, there was no way Anankos could be stopped. All the confidence he had been feeling the night before evaporated at the sight of the Silent Dragon.

Kana was at his side the entire time, and Shiro knew his little brother was feeling exactly the same, despite his usual optimistic attitude. The young boy was gripping Shiro’s robes, a silver katana held in his other hand. Shiro’s Waterwheel was kept fast in Shiro’s trembling hands, acting as both a shield and blade to protect from any enemies that threatened Shiro’s or his brother’s life. The fearsome naginata kept near Vallites at bay, but it wasn’t giving Shiro its usual sense of security.

Because of this, Shiro’s attention was merely focused on keeping himself and his brother alive, and not watching everything around him as he usually did.

_“SHIRO!”_

Shiro, and Kana as well, spun in complete surprise at the sound of their mother’s voice. She had screamed Shiro’s name like a madwoman, and Shiro almost screamed back when he saw the condition she was in: the Yato was chipped in several places even despite its divinity, any of her skin that was showing was either slashed or covered in blood, and her Hoshidan armour was cracked in places and splattered with either her blood or the blood of her enemies. She looked like she was limping as well as she sprinted the best she could toward him, her crimson eyes blazing and draconic antlers already showing.

She looked like a demon incarnate, racing through the smoky battlefield towards her children.

Shiro was going to grab Kana and meet her halfway, fight and slash enemies in his way with the Waterwheel until he reached his mother, but instead was frozen in place. Even as Kana cried for their mother and clung to him for dear life, and even as their mother cut down enemy after enemy and gained even more wounds that slowed her pursuit, Shiro only stood in Anankos’s eclipsing shadow and realized how certain his death was. He wasn’t going to see his father again.

He only snapped back to reality when his mother finally reached him, only to spin and take an arrow straight to the chest in her son’s stead.

It all happened in such slow motion, and Shiro flinched when he saw the arrow slice through her sternum and force its way out of the back of her shoulder.

Though their mother made no noise at the sudden attack, only her eyes widening as she stumbled back, Kana screamed in the most blood curdling voice Shiro had ever heard and ran to her when she fell to her knees. Shiro’s eyes desperately looked from his mother to her attacker before screaming almost as terribly as his brother. He leapt forward, heart beating faster than it should have been and tears suddenly in his eyes, and cleaved the Vallite’s head right from his shoulders. For once in his life, Shiro didn’t flinch when his enemy’s still warm blood spattered against his face.

Suddenly, everything around Shiro became silent and he could only hear his heavy panting. He didn’t realize it was the blood rushing through his ears that had created the silence, nor did he care. As his mind narrowed and his gaze flooded with a red aura, his eyes found his felled mother and shrieking brother. He had promised, he had promised, keep them safe, keep them safe, _keep them safe-_

Before Shiro could stop himself, every negative emotion, every tear he had ever shed, every person he had lost, cascaded back to him like a dam in his mind had suddenly split down the middle. All the times he was called the child of sin, the illegitimate prince, one of the damned, it all sheared his rationality until he craved nothing but vengeance and blood.

 

***

 

Perhaps if had been able to think straight, he would have turned his multiplying strength and rage toward Anankos, the origin of all his pain and sorrow. Maybe in another time he could have been leading a regular life in Hoshido, his hair and eyes not so unnatural, growing up alongside his potential siblings, watching his parents age with him and become wise. Maybe then he would have been happy, and never would have had to shed blood with his own hand.

He had thought about what his life would have been like if he’d never been placed in his Deeprealm and his parents were not considered brother and sister. He liked to believe that he would have been much more prepared to be the next king, like Siegbert was, and that he would have been extremely close with his father. Raijinto would have accepted him when the crown was passed to him. His father would have retired from the throne, would never die in battle, and Shiro would live to see the day when Hoshido and Nohr were finally at peace. Perhaps he would have met Siegbert as a political ally and friend.

But Shiro knew that fantasy was one that never included Valla or Anankos.

Shiro would never be able to say how long he had been in his draconic rage or how many people he had hurt or killed before he heard a sweet song reach his ears over the sound of the blood. Lethe wings flapped and his antlered head turned to find an azure haired pegasus rider, eyes closed and focused on his song.

 _Shigure,_ Shiro remembered among his clouded thoughts, recognizing his cousin. How did he know that? The song? Was it bringing his consciousness back?

“...ro! Dammit, Shiro!”

Another voice was reaching him. Who was it this time? It sounded like Asugi, Shigure's elder brother and Shiro’s retainer. He wasn’t satisfied yet, though. He was going to make them pay. He wanted more, as he raised a paw to silence the noise permanently, _needed_ more-

“Shiro! Can you hear me?”

That voice surprised Shiro this time. _Mom?!_ He spun in sudden excitement, having thought he’d lost her to the stray Vallite arrow, and sure enough, there she stood. She was supported by his father, the limp leg Shiro had noticed earlier finally having been too weak to hold her weight, the arrow wound gone (magical healing, no doubt), and she looked fiercely tired. But she still stared desperately at Shiro, obviously believing she could bring him back to his human form. His father held the same look, firm gaze on him.

“Shiro,” his mother said softer this time, pulling herself from her husband and outstretching her arms to Shiro. With Shigure still singing, she said, “I know you’re very upset, darling, and I know that you’re hurting. I’ve been there, believe me, and it ended up just like this. So, Shiro, I need you to remember all the good in the world, all the people you have around you and the reason you’re fighting, alright?”

Her hands reached his muzzle and she pulled him close, leaning their foreheads together, dragon and human. “You are my son,” she murmured, her eyes closing gently. “I love you more than all the stars above, and I’m so proud of the young man you have become. I’m so grateful that I was able to bear such a wonderful child in a time like this.”

_Mom…_

_But Mom’s the loveliest person I know…_

_She’s never done anything wrong. She always loves me and gives me lots of hugs and presents when she comes to see me…_

_I want to stay by Mom’s side all the time!_

_MOTHER!!_

Shiro roared wildly and reared back, his mother stumbling back in surprise at his outburst. “Corrin, get back!” Shiro heard his father yell and take a step forward, but Shiro stopped him in his tracks by letting out a gut wrenching howl, releasing his every painful memory and experience in one mournful cry to the heavens.

In the next few moments, Shiro’s draconic form all but disintegrated and he dropped to his knees once he felt only two legs instead of four. He was suddenly so exhausted, and he couldn’t even see straight. Everything spun, and he could hear a thousand voices reverberating through his head. He’d forgotten to breathe. “Mo…”

He felt someone catch him when he began to collapse to the side, and it took him a moment to recognize Asugi. “Easy there, partner,” the ninja told him gently, slinging Shiro’s arm around his shoulder. “It’s over, Shiro,” Asugi smiled at him, a bit of dried blood under his nose and one of his eyes was black and red with bruises. “We can finally go home.”

 _Home,_ Shiro thought absently as his parents ran to him and checked him over for wounds that needed healing. _But the only home I’ve ever had is that damned Deeprealm._

Kana shouted his name, beaming happily, before leaping and hugging Shiro’s torso tightly. Shiro moved his arm to hug his brother, finally allowing himself to sigh out his worry. Asugi handed Shiro off to his father, and before he knew it, his tightknit, odd little family were suddenly all hugging him, and the cheers of victory finally reached Shiro’s ears.

Shiro grinned, realizing something as he held his mother, his father and his little brother close. _This, right here, is my home._

 

***

 

“Don’t look so worried, kid!”

Kana gave Shiro an annoyed look, but immediately had to look back forward when Oboro growled at the movement. “Don’t try to get me worked up for tomorrow, Shiro. It’s not going to work.”

Shiro smiled a little, hardly seeing the boy Kana once was anymore, but instead the grown man and prince he now was. “Not even Kiragi could break your concentration now, Kana. You already look finer than I did at my coronation.”

Kana chuckled the smallest bit and smiled in the mirror back at Shiro. “You didn’t look like my big brother back then; you looked like a king. I just look like a skinny kid in scary armour and robes.”

“Very finely tailored robes, milord,” Oboro snapped, jabbing Kana with a needle. Shiro snorted when Kana whined at Oboro for such treatment, but the older woman merely berated him for acting like a child less than 24 hours before his coronation.

When the war ended, unprecedented peace overcame Hoshido, Nohr and Valla. The people of all three kingdoms rejoiced, though it would take another decade before Hoshidan and Nohrian people because common with each other, especially with inter-royal marriages between all three kingdoms.

Following the return to respective kingdoms, the Hoshidan royal family attended the Nohrian coronation and official wedding between Xander and Hinoka. The two had been unofficially married during the war (like Shiro’s parents and everyone else that had been married) and had Siegbert in that time, but it had to be officiated if Xander was marrying royalty from an allied kingdom.

It had been a little more difficult for Shiro’s parents. Discovering his mother was Vallite royalty all along had thrown Hoshido and Valla into a loop. When Asugi then Shigure both abdicated their rights to the Vallite throne, that made Shiro’s mother the rightful Queen of Valla, but she had also married the High Prince of Hoshido, which also made her the rightful Queen of Hoshido.

There had been long nights of discussion, theorizing between nations and deciding on heirs before the Hoshidan coronation occurred. It ended with Shiro’s father King of Hoshido, naming Shiro his successor, and his mother named Queen of Valla, and Kana her successor.

Years and decades passed peacefully, relations between the three kingdoms only strengthening with time. As Shiro grew older and wiser and prepared to become king in the future, he eventually married his love from the war, Caeldori.

Peace had finally come to the land and all nations.

For almost two decades, Hoshido prospered tremendously under Shiro’s father’s rule. No one disputed that he had lived up to Sumeragi’s grand legacy. When he retired from the throne at forty-seven, Shiro was finally ready and more than willing to carry the burden of a kingdom on his shoulders.

Now, two years later, Shiro’s mother abdicated her throne to Kana and returned to Hoshido. The newly thirty year old Grand Duke of Valla was currently being fitted for his coronation robes and armour.

“Will Mother and Father be coming?” Kana asked thoughtfully, lifting his lithe arms for Oboro to adjust the sleeves.

“Of course,” the Hoshidan king answered with a laugh. “Who do you think is giving you your crown?”

The brothers laughed for a moment before Oboro once again jabbed Kana.

“M’lord, Lady Mitama requests your presence for dinner,” Dwyer, Kana’s butler, informed Shiro’s brother. Kana winced at that.

“She’ll be wanting to lecture me again on tomorrow,” Kana disclosed about his wife, allowing Oboro to make final adjustments and slip the garments off the Grand Duke. As the younger man stepped down from the platform, he motioned to Shiro. “Care to join us, Brother? I’m sure Caeldori will be happy to see Mitama after such a long time apart.”

“Agreed,” Shiro answered with a chuckle and began following after his brother and Oboro, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror Oboro had been using.

He looked much taller than he actually was in his father’s armour, even if he had opted to not wear the chin armour on a regular basis outside of battle and ceremony. His face had become more weathered and the ghost of a goatee was beginning to show. Even Raijinto looked even more fearsome at his hip than it had at his father’s.

“It’s really over, isn’t it?” Shiro asked no one in particular, smiling faintly. He turned away from the mirror for a moment and called, “Asugi, would you let my wife know we’re having dinner with my brother tonight?”

“O’course, milord,” Shiro heard from just outside the door before his master ninja retainer disappeared.

With one last glance to the glass, Shiro combed his fingers through his ash white hair, completely free of any dye that had once been in it. He nodded in satisfaction before heading out of the room, faintly feeling a long forgotten scar tingle on the inside of his forearm for the final time.

**_It’s over._ **


End file.
